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His White Queen: A Prequel	By : jsu1660n Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Hermione/Voldemort Views: 18950 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I DO NOT own Harry Potter, neither the characters from the books or movies. I receive no profit from this fanfiction.

Chapter List
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Chapter One

It was 4:47 a.m. when Hermione Granger opened her eyes. Normally, she wouldn’t begin her summer days until 7 am, 7:30 at the latest. However, for the past few weeks she had found herself awaking earlier and earlier. Not because she was not getting enough sleep, but because when she did sleep, she had weird dreams.

Now as a fourteen (going on fifteen) year old witch, she knew everything about weird. From waving a stick around and making things happen to dealing with killer trolls, possessed teachers, cursed diaries, accidentally turning herself into a half-cat person (still a very sore subject for her), being petrified by large snakes, escaping professors who were werewolves, facing soul sucking creatures, time-traveling, saving innocent prison escapees, and so on. Weird was normal for her.

But these dreams that she had, starting the night Peter Pettigrew escaped, taking poor Sirius’s alibi with him, were beyond anything she had ever experienced. She tossed the covers off her, planning to write in her dream journal when she noticed an extremely cold draft hitting her between her thighs. She looked down with dismay and realized that the inside of her thighs as well as the seat of her knickers were soaked.

“Dammit,” she sighed. This type of thing was only supposed to happen to randy boys.

Hermione cleaned herself up and changed into her jogging sweats. She concealed her wand in her pocket after she laced her sneakers. Sure, underage magic was strictly forbidden by the Ministry of Magic, but she would be damned if she let some stupid muggle attack her when she jogged. She started jogging in the mornings a few days after she returned from Hogwarts. She didn’t believe that she was fat or anything, but the running gave her a chance to, well, not think.

Before she left, she removed her dream journal from beneath the loose floorboard that was hidden under her bed. She sat at her desk and pricked her finger with one of her mother’s sewing needles. She let two drops of her blood fall on to the blank page. Her blood absorbed into the page and Hermione suppressed a shudder of déjà vu of Harry explaining to her and Ron about Tom Riddle’s diary. She watched her previous entries reemerge on the page as she disinfected and bandaged her finger.

Yes, the use of blood magic was also frowned upon by the Ministry of Magic, and year ago, Hermione would never have even considered going against their rules, but the MoM could shove it for all she could cared.

Hermione sat at her desk and wrote down everything she could remember about her dream. When that was finished, she wrote her thoughts and reflections on what the dream could mean.

“Perhaps, this is my subconscious mind’s way of saying that it is time for me to seek out the attention of the opposite sex. I have never actually had a boyfriend, maybe now is the time to consider having one.”

Satisfied with what she wrote, she closed the journal and replaced it underneath the floorboard. She grabbed her iPod, her keys, as her parents were still asleep, and her prepaid cell phone. Apparently, because of all of the time she spent at Hogwarts, she didn’t need to be on the Family Plan. Gits.

No, she argued with herself. They are right. The magic in Hogwarts naturally interferes with anything that uses technology. Having a contracted cell phone would be a waste of time and money.

Whatever you say, she heard the voice whisper.

Hermione rolled her eyes and locked the front door behind her. In addition to the weird dreams, Hermione suddenly started hearing voices—well, a voice. The same voice she used in her dreams. She could just imagine what Harry and Ron would say if they knew she was arguing with a voice inside her head.

No, Hermione. Even in the wizarding world, hearing voices isn’t a good sign, the voice quoted with a snicker, plucking exactly what she said to Harry back in their second year from her memory.

“Shut up, you annoying bint,” she hissed.

The voice’s sultry laughter echoed in her head, but otherwise remained silent. Hermione huffed irritably and put in her earplugs. Fall Out Boy’s Thnks fr the Mmrs played loudly, effectively drowning out any unpleasant thoughts—or voices—that decided to harass her on her morning run.

Hermione loved running at this time of morning. The grass still smelt fresh and damp from the morning dew. The birds were just starting to chirp, saying good morning in their own way. In the next hour or two, they would start saying good morning to the neighbors cars, but oh, well, nature is as beautiful as it is fickle. The dogs were just peeking their sleepy heads out of their doghouses and other little creatures were either creeping about to gather food before the humans awoke, or just getting ready to go to sleep.

Either way, it was a beautiful morning and Hermione decided she would stop by the lake on her way back. She ran the five miles into town and took a break. She paused her music and went to the vending machine in front of the local grocers. She bought a bottled Evian and started to walk around a bit.

Her thoughts drifted back to the boyfriend issue. Against her will, she started to list her options. Harry and Ron were obvious frontrunners in her thoughts. Neville, Seamus, and possibly Fred and George. Outside of her house, well, her options were vastly limited.

First off, Harry Potter. There were so many things wrong with that thought, Hermione barely knew where to begin. Yes, Harry was good-looking. Yes, he would be a boyfriend who would treat her right. Yes, he was brave, strong, and caring but…he was Harry! It would be like committing incest for Godric’s sake!

That and the boy has a bull’s eye the size of a Hippogriff on his back, the voice remarked.

Hermione was both angry and disgusted. Harry was her best friend. He was like the brother she had always wanted. Yes, he was a bit too obsessed with Quidditch and liked to procrastinate on his schoolwork, but what teenager doesn’t?

You.

And besides, it’s not Harry fault if certain wizards put too much stock into Divination!

“You have said some pretty awful things since you entered my mind, but that bit about the target was just fucked!” she hissed.

Oooh, the little Gryffindor Princess said a swear! We’re probably going to have an earthquake now because of that little anomaly. Gee, thanks a lot, ‘Mi!

“And stop calling me that. No, as a matter of fact, stop talking to me altogether.”

I will consider it. In the meantime, I would greatly appreciate it, ‘Mi, if you were to call me by my name.

“I will do no such thing. Giving a name to a voice or presence or whatever the hell you are means that you are real, and you most certainly are not real!”

We shall see…

Hermione waited and waited. After five minutes passed, she was satisfied that the voice would leave her alone and continued her previous contemplations. Bottom line, Harry was probably everything she could ever dream of…scratch that, he was everything she once thought she wanted in a boyfriend, but it would be too weird.

Ronald Weasley. Ron had a kind heart…at times. He was understanding…after you practically beat it into his head that you did not intentionally do anything wrong. He was cute, even though gingers usually did not appeal to her. He came from a loving family. Most people liked him. But he has serious inferiority issues. But again, what teenager doesn’t? He was a definite possibility.

Neville Longbottom. He was one of the sweetest boys Hermione had ever met. He was brave, despite his nervous timidity. Whenever Snape would make a point of humiliating or frightening the boy, Hermione wanted to take him in her arms and hide him from the big, mean professor. Okay, so he was more of a friend-child than anything.

Moving on!

Seamus Finnigan. Well, his Irish accent was very sexy. He made her laugh whenever he blew something up, usually himself. Hermione didn’t really know anything else about him other than that. Perhaps more interaction is key to discovering the real Seamus Finnigan.

Then there were the Weasley Twins. Fred and George. Well, they were fiercely protective of their family. They were the funniest people she knew and the biggest troublemakers Hermione had ever met. They were obviously talented in spells, charms, and even potions, but Hermione had the distinct impression that those two would never be anything as serious as Aurors, not that she thought they should be. And of course, there are benefits of dating twins…

Hermione cleared her throat and took a sip of her water, thinking of anything else before her wicked thoughts came to the surface.

You are forgetting about a certain blond-haired dragon.

The image of Draco Malfoy’s sneering face flashed before her eyes and Hermione found herself down on her hands and knees choking while the voice laughed jovially.

“Are you insane?” she gasped. “Draco Malfoy? Even if I was in a desert dying of thirst and Draco Malfoy was the only remaining drop of water, I would never even think of swallowing him.”

Well, slow it down, girl. I was merely suggesting that for good looks alone he should make your list, but you have jumped all the way to fellatio! I have never been so proud.

“Ugh, you are incorrigible.”

Hermione turned her music back on and blasted it, hoping to annoy the voice as much as she annoyed her. She ran back towards her house and made a detour towards the lake. She could see the beautiful aquamarine water drawing closer and closer.

‘Mi.

She continued to run, ignoring the voice.

‘Mi, it said again, sounding a bit irritated.

Hermione started humming, just to tune the voice out. If it kept bothering her, she was going to turn her mental radio to Aqua’s Barbie Girl, the most annoying song to date.

‘MI!!!!

“WHAT??”

Snake.

“What?”

Snake, the voice said, calmly.

“What? Where?” Hermione asked, a bit taken aback.

You are about to step on him.

Hermione looked down and sure enough, she was one-step away from stepping on the snake. She sidestepped and fell sideways into the lake, startling the ducks who were out for their morning swim. The voice was falling over herself in laughter as Hermione drug herself out of the dirty water and onto the bank. She lay on her back staring up at the brightening sky.

‘Mi?

“Don’t,” she warned.

Look, I didn’t—.

“I am five seconds away from Bombarda’ing my brain. You had better make it good.”

Well, I was going to say that I didn’t throw you into the lake, but I would say that you have bigger issues now.

“I am lying on a bank, completely soaked, my iPod is now resting on the floor of the lake, and even if I could use magic to get it back, it’s completely useless! You have successfully ruined my morning with your insipid voice and stupid opinions. What could possibly be wrong now?”

The voice paused and Hermione felt a dull ache inside her mind. It was as if the voice was hurt.

The snake is back, and then the voice went away.

Hermione heard the light hissing in her ear before she turned her head. The snake who seemed to be staring at her menacingly, was a surprisingly beautiful creature. Its scales were primarily a dark green with two long strips of bronze down each side of its body. Unfortunately, for Hermione, she was not sure if it was a simple grass snake or a highly poisonous adder.

“Um...h-hello?” she said nervously.

The snake actually tilted its head at her and flicked its long, forked tongue against her cheek. Hermione knew enough about snakes to know that when snakes flicked their tongue they were tasting, touching, and smelling things. When it seemed that Hermione had passed her inspection she sat up slowly. The snake sat across from her as if it was waiting for her to say something.

“I’m sorry I almost stepped on you earlier. I should have been watching where I was going.” The snake stared at her. “And you probably have no idea what I’m talking about.” She looked out onto the lake. The sun had risen and the reflection casted sparkling diamonds on the surface.

While Hermione had her attention elsewhere, the snake wound itself around her arm and rested its head on top of the back of her hand.

“You must be a grass snake. You would only be this affectionate if I was a Parselmouth, or you were an Animagus,” she said, stroking the smooth scales of the snakes head. “I suppose you want to come home with me, huh?” in response, the snake flicked its tongue and nestled itself more securely around her arm. “Oh, very well, but I will warn you. I have a pet cat, who is slightly territorial. He won’t harm you, but don’t antagonize him.” The snake looked up at her and she knew that if he had eyebrows, they would be arched as if affronted. “Still not too late to back out.” Thoroughly chastised, the snake ducked its head.

By the time Hermione and Baltazar—he gave a resounding hiss of approval when she chose the name—made it home, Hermione’s parents were sitting at the kitchen table.

“Good morning…” she stopped talking when she noticed the frightened faces of her parents. Faster than she had ever done, she withdrew her wand from her pocket. “What’s wrong?” she looked around the kitchen for anything suspicious and found—

“Hedwig, what are you doing here, girl?” she said, pocketing her wand. Harry’s snow-white owl hooted happily and flew to her shoulder. “Want to come upstairs with me and have some owl treats?” she cooed, stroking her beautiful feathers. “This is what had you two so spooked?” she laughed.

“Well, sweetheart, it just flew in suddenly when I was making breakfast and refused to leave.”

“It is a girl, and her name is Hedwig. She’s Harry’s owl, mother, you know this,” she sighed.

Her mother sighed concession. Hermione’s father, however, had ignored the back and forth between his wife and daughter. His eyes were fixed on the not-so-little package wrapped around his daughter’s wrist.

“Hermione, what is that?”

Both Hermione and her mother looked to where he had pointed. Her mother gasped and stood. “Hermione! Remove that thing at once before it hurts you!”

She sighed and held herself back from rolling her eyes. “Mother, father, this is a grass snake. I found him this morning. His name is Baltazar.” She couldn’t help the way her voice came across as patronizing.

“Sweetheart, you name a pet, like Crookshanks, but you do not name a wild animal!” her mother argued.

“Mum, dad, I would really like to keep Baltazar. He is not poisonous and he will not strangle anyone. Right?”

She raised her arm and the snake glanced briefly at her parents before letting out a long hiss that was strangely similar to saying, “probably not.”

“Fine, fine, just don’t let him loose around the house,” her mother said, making a ‘shoo’ motion. “I can remember a time when she used to love rabbits and building terrariums.”

“Back when things were normal,” she heard her father sigh wistfully.

Blinking back tears, Hermione continued her trek to her bedroom. Once she was upstairs and sure that Crookshanks and Baltazar would stay out of one another’s way, Hermione removed the letter from Hedwig’s foot and fed her a plate full of owl treats.

She sat on the bed and read over Harry’s letter.

“Dear Hermione,

I’m sorry this is the only letter I have written you this summer. I can’t say that I have been particularly busy, but I did receive a few letters from Snuffles. He and Witherwings are enjoying their selves. I am at Ron’s house. We (this includes you, of course) are all going to the Quidditch World Cup the day after tomorrow. I know you’re not a fan of Quidditch, but please say that you will come! I promise you will have fun, even if I have to fly onto the pitch and capture the snitch myself.

Lots of love,

Harry and Ron

P.S. Ron has a new familiar. It is an owl whose name is Pig. You will see why when you get here.”

Quidditch World Cup. Oh, joy. She quickly wrote a response saying yes to the invite and informing them that she had another familiar as well.

Once she sent Hedwig off with her letter, she took a shower and washed off all of the gunk from the lake. Her hair would be unmanageable since she didn’t get the chance to dry it properly. Maybe she could ask—no, if she wanted to be a brat and run away because she got her feelings hurt, then that was on her. Hermione decided that if the voice no longer wished to talk to her, then good riddance.

She dressed in a pair of black shorts and a blue tank and spent the remainder of the day reading Richelle Mead’s Vampire Academy series. She thought she had better get a move on it before someone gets the bright idea to turn this series into either a cable television show or a blockbuster movie that while nearly every member of the cast is mouthwatering (esp. the male lead), the story itself lacks the emotional and mental commitment readers had with the books.

*Cough* Twilight *Cough*

But even as she read, she felt the void in her mind as if it was a dark chasm spreading slowly, but surely.

Before she went to be that night, she whispered, “I’m sorry, Meira.”

She could feel her smiling. I forgive you, ‘Mi.
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His White Queen: A Prequel